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The little man shrugged. “I know not the future.” Then he winked and threw himself from the window. Marcus bit back a smile. Then he steeled himself and went back to the ballroom, which didn’t call to him the way home did. In fact, it did the opposite.
Marcus heard his name called from across the room and turned to find his mother, Lady Ramsdale, walking toward him with her arms outstretched. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, smiling broadly enough that he felt somewhat guilty for hating these affairs so much.
“As am I,” he lied, the sentiment falling from his tongue more easily than it used to. This was to be his lot in life. He might as well accept it. “Did I miss the big announcement?” he asked.
She beamed at him as she shook her head. “No, you’re just in time. I think everyone is in place.”
“Are you certain this is going to work?” he murmured out the side of his mouth.
“I’m not certain at all,” she replied. “But there are enough fae here, I think…”
Marcus looked about the room. There were fae mixed with the peers for the sole purpose of this night, to solidify this announcement in the eyes of the ton.
Marcus’s parents planned to welcome their three fae children into the fold publicly. The only problem was that the ton had no idea they even had these three children. So, it would take a bit of creative maneuvering to convince society that the Ramsdales had known of Marcus, Claire, and Sophia’s existence all along.
The quartet’s song slowed and then stopped, and the musicians put away their instruments. A slow rumble of voices rolled across the room. But then Lord Ramsdale, Marcus’s father, clinked a utensil against the side of a glass. Every head in the room turned toward him.
“If I may have your attention, please,” he said with a smile. “We’ll go back to the merriment in a moment, but I wanted to say a few words, if possible.”
The crowd whispered loudly to one another and strained to hear him as he pulled Marcus’s mother to stand beside him. He beckoned the duke and Sophie, and then Lord Phineas and Claire, who had found their way back from the nursery. Then he called Marcus and Allen forward as well.
“You’re all aware of the new additions to our family. Our daughter Sophia married the Duke of Robinsworth and they recently had a son of their own, and we have claimed Lady Anne, Robinsworth’s first daughter, as
our own grandchild. She tolerates us, most days.” Laughter rumbled through the crowd. “And then Claire met and married the duke’s younger brother, Lord Phineas, and they gave us not one, but two new grandchildren. Lord Phineas always was an overachiever.”
Lord Phineas raised a glass and grinned.
His father stopped to clear his throat. “As you’re aware, Marcus, Claire, and Sophia spent much of their time in the country with Lady Ramsdale’s parents when they were younger, and we’re delighted to have them in Town with us this season.”
That wasn’t exactly true. But that was the point of the gathering, wasn’t it? They were to plant memories in the minds of the ton, making them think the Ramsdale children had been the darlings of Society all along, rather than never having been heard of. By the end of the ball, everyone would leave with knowledge of the three, believing the three of them had always existed.
“My younger daughters, Rose and Hannah, are not quite old enough to join us, but my sons, Marcus and Allen, are here, and I hope you’ll all welcome Marcus, Claire, and Sophia with as much enthusiasm as you would my wife and I.” He stopped and spoke very clearly and slowly. “You all knew of my six children since the days of their births. You knew of all six of them.”
Marcus looked around as magic dust began to swirl in the air. It lived and breathed, as did the supplanted memories. The fae held the magic aloft, and even his sisters and his mother and grandmother helped to stir the dust. Their power made the air in the room shake, and Marcus reached out a hand to a nearby table to steady himself.
Everyone in the room, aside from the fae, was frozen in place as the dust fell. It shimmered like diamonds in the air, and Marcus’s gut clenched as he realized that this act sealed his fate. He couldn’t go back home. Now the ton knew who he was. In fact, they would probably be telling stories of him as a small lad, all figments of their own imaginations, of course, before the night was over. He hadn’t grown up in this world, but now everyone would think he had.
His father repeated, his voice rising in volume, “You all knew of my six children since the days of their births. You have memories of them as children, as adolescents, and as adults. You welcome them with open arms.” His father’s words could do nothing without the fae and their magic dust. But he spoke them clearly, and when the dust settled at their feet, the people in the room all woke, and they raised their glasses in a toast. “To my children, their health, and their happiness,” his father said.
Everyone drank, including Marcus. This was his world now. There would be no going back home after this. He was well and truly trapped. Trapped being a viscount. Trapped being a gentleman. Trapped being a man in need of a wife. Trapped without her. Trapped without the woman he loved.
The compass in his pocket fluttered. Marcus tugged the chain to pull it from his pocket as the orchestra set back up and music began to flow around the room again. He glanced down at the dial. It pointed across the room. Marcus followed the direction of the arrow, and it landed on her. It landed on the one woman he thought he’d never see again. He picked it up and shook it beside his ear. Perhaps it was broken. His compass was supposed to point the way home. But it pointed to her. What the devil was going on?
***
The hair on the back of Cecelia Hewitt’s neck stood up, and a shiver crept up her spine. He was there. And he was looking at her; she was certain of it.
Cecelia frantically searched the room, looking for his long, dark hair, which was probably pulled back in a queue to hide the tips of his ears. She reached up to adjust a pin over her ear for the same purpose. Living in the human world was difficult. One couldn’t let the humans see one’s magic, and that included one’s fae ears. Aside from her wings, which she could bring about or make disappear at will, her ears were the only evidence of her heritage. She looked as human as everyone else. But she wasn’t. Not even close. Because she had magic inside her. Magic she couldn’t do away with if she tried.
The mission tonight had gone well, Cecelia thought. She hadn’t wanted to be here at all, but Marcus’s grandmother had bid her attendance, and she couldn’t turn the widow down. She’d come by way of the wind the night before. She’d spent the night at Ramsdale House and was doomed to stay until the next moonful when she could ride the wind back to the land of the fae.
“Thank you, dear,” Marcus’s grandmother said, laying her hand upon Cecelia’s arm. “I know you hadn’t planned to come to this world, but I appreciate that you did. We needed all the magic we could gather.”
“My magic is at your disposal until the next moonful,” Cecelia replied. She didn’t have anything else to do. She might as well stay busy. Marcus’s grandmother patted her arm again and left her standing there.
Another shiver traveled up Cecelia’s spine. He was nearby. She hadn’t seen Marcus in more than six months. Not since that night when he’d told her he was done with her.
Now she hated him. He could go burn in hell and she wouldn’t care. Six months. It had been six months since she’d seen him. And he hadn’t sent one letter. Not a single correspondence. He hadn’t reached out to her at all. And then she’d been asked to come and contribute her magic to his success. She’d done it. But she wasn’t happy about it. Not at all. She was, however, happy to have a brief respite from home.
